An Island of Reality in an Ocean of Diarrhea

For the past few weeks I have been obsessed with Jason Mraz's Details in the Fabric. It's one of those songs that just reaches in and touches my soul. Seriously, the song is like crack.
I have been trying to sort out my emotions toward a certain someone, and it's somewhere between: what-the-hell?! and, I still love him. The latter is a huge problem because he does not love me back. Again. I don't know how, but I find myself in these situations where I would do anything for a guy and he just doesn't reciprocate the feeling. I know that. He knows that. He knows I know that. What.the.hell.is.wrong.with.me?
I have also been informed that I am self-centered. Twice in one week, by two completely different people thousands of miles apart. It must be true. Bad week for the ego and self-esteem alike.
One of the intern girls came over for dinner tonight. I was attempting to put up the Christmas tree when the bottom quarter of the lights refused to work. So I decided to go out and buy new ones and invited her for lasagne and salad. She's such a sweet girl. Nobody would ever call her self-centered... There I go comparing myself again. I should follow suit in the whole identifying myself thing. I fear I am far too dependent on other people to decifer what is really me. But, this blog is for me to really demonstrate individualism. To myself and all you random others who happen to stumble upon my page. I wonder what you think about me this far.
I occasionally hit that "next blog" button and have seen some incredible people doing amazing things with their lives. One couple retired and moved to Mexico, helping motherless puppies survive and fixing up an old mexican adobe house. Ahh, what it must be like to just pick up and go. One day.
I have so much to do and have an overwheming amount of anxiety to get it all done. Not enough hours in the day or enough dollars in the account. I hope I can make Christmas good, I wish my family and I were closer. There appears to be a negative amount of love in this house. If it weren't for my daugter, we'd all hate each other. How sad.
Can we say negativity?
I'm workin on it. Really.

Aye Carumba!

I have so much to do! I feel as if I could never possibly accomplish everything I want to with the quality effort I set out with! Can I just let out a nice, loud SCREAMM?! AH! This time of year sucks more and more the older I get. How can anyone like buying gifts for every person they love, knowing the person might not like it, AND be happy about wrapping and packing them to mail them off hoping they arrive on time? Not to mention the maddness of shopping ON top of things like FINALS, stressed out co-workers, friends, family and yours truly! I just don't get it.

Well, holy rant and rave. No idea where that came from.

I got nothing else. It's been a long day, been up since 5, worked an 8 hour shift, did hw for two hours, dinner, bath, and then hw for another 3.5 hrs. 7 more classes, 7 more classes, 7 more classes and I can have something to show.

God. Strength. Please.

Fairies are disguised as butterflies and flowers, that's why it's so strange to see one out of season....

The woman in charge at work decided to read the pre-schoolers a book without pictures about fairies and their adventures of fighting evil and saving the good fairies from an unfortunate death. The line above came straight from the book, and I kid you not, last week there was a butterfly in my room. [temperatures are below freezing, and there's a butterfly in my room?!] At first I thought it was a bit of a pest. But after about 3 days of coming into my room to my butterfly (who I named "Betsy") I began to feel sorry for the creature. No, I do not believe that my butterfly was a fairy, but I felt sorry for the little beauty as she was limited to a few days to see the world and she was trapped in my blase' room. I felt genuinely bad, so I decided to let Betsy out of my room so she could at least have the rest of the house to fly around in. I was afraid to let her outside because she would freeze in no time at all. After letting her out (careful not to touch her wings because someone told me when I was little that the oils on our hands damage the wings.. not sure if it's true.. ) I let her out and she flew around for about 20 seconds and then flew directly back into my room. That's when I decided to name her. Anyway, I haven't seen her today, so I'm sure she's dead somewhere on my floor. How sad am I to mourn the death of a butterfly...

I'm not sure why, but I'm glad I can have feelings for such an insignificant living thing. I'm glad I could never hunt, or fish because I can't even stomach killing a worm. I say this, and yet I eat meat, all meat from innocent living animals but I wouldn't if I had to kill it myself.

I am highly considering becoming a vegetarian.